Bronze Statues
by elleindie
Summary: Bella Swan doesn't belong in the Upper East Side, so she's about to put herself in danger the only way she knows how: falling in love with Chuck Bass. "I don't know if I can fix you. I might just break you even more."
1. Prologue

**Bronze Statues  
_a fanfic by The Volvo_**

**-- -- -- **

I wasn't ready for this.

I wasn't ready, and I was a fool to think I was. I was a fool to allow my mother to talk me into this. It'll be fine, she said. You'll be just like them, she said.

Lies, all of it. Because these people weren't people. They were walking textbooks about all the things I'd laughed at and despised on those campy television shows about trendy private schools in upper class neighborhoods.

Jenny was the only semi-normal one of them all, and even she was strange. Obsessed with breaking out and having her name published in papers alongside her designs. Possessed with a strange desire to be liked by the people who kept putting her down.

Dan was a different story. Dan was… safe. Dan was just what I thought I needed.

You can't fit in in a world where everyone tells you you're wrong. I didn't want to. I didn't want the uniforms, the mohogany lockers as opposed to normal metal ones. I felt like the poor girl (which I was) that everyone felt sorry for, but more than that; I felt like the poor girl that everyone disliked, because I was trying to be one of them. When, in fact, I was trying everything I could _not_ to be like them.

I was trying to survive. Still trying to breath around a hole in my chest. Because he'd never come back; never would, now. I was gone, so was he. I guess this meant we were moving on. I wasn't sure I liked the sound of that, but Edward had said the words, not me.

I was sure that no matter how horrible all their pretty little lives were, they'd never experienced true loss. A breakup here and there, or a nasty divorce settlement. But none of them had lost true love. Their precious little hearts wouldn't handle it, to know what I'd known and then to lose it. I bet if Blair Waldorf had had an Edward, she wouldn't be the queen bee. She'd be trying to cope, like me. She'd almost be human.

But either way, it didn't matter. Because Edward was my past. This was my present, here in the Upper East Side. How much things had changed in the span of a few months.

How much things were about to change for me, and I hadn't even begun to comprehend any of it.

-- -- --

**Disclaimer.**

I don't own _Twilight_, _Gossip Girl_, or any characters involved.

**Author's Note.**

So here's the deal: this is a prologue of a new story I'm working on. I already hav e alot of stories I'm working on, so this may have to take a back seat. I'm posting to see if there's any interest in this idea. SO, if you're interested, and want to see where this goes, then please review telling me to keep writing it.

Thanks for reading, please review!!!


	2. Chapter 1

_Summary.  
When Bella relocates to New York City, she finds herself immersed in a world of high fashion and juicy gossip. Befriending the Humphreys might help, but there's much more harm the Upper East Siders can cause then help they can offer. And though she doesn't quite fit in, there's one thing that can make the transition a little easier. Besides, Chuck Bass always gets what he wants. _

-- -- --

**BELLA SWAN**

"Phil's been transferred."

Renee's voice filtered throught the phone line, a hint of static mingling here and there. Still, I could hear a strange hint of what sounded like happiness in her tone. I tried to sound excited for her and for Phil when I answered.

"Oh? Where to?" My attempt at excitement was marred, as it always was.

"New York," she said. "And the team manager said the stay would be permanent, for the most part."

I was surprised. "You're… You're moving? To New York?" Even through my shock, my voice sounded lifeless. I kind of felt bad; it was the first time I'd talked to my mother in weeks, and I couldn't find it in me to put forth the effort the conversation called for.

My mother seemed undaunted, however. "Yeah!" she chirped, and I could imagine the bright smile she'd be wearing on the other end of the line. "Brooklyn. There's this great loft space that we're looking at renting, it's really open and kind of got this vintage-artsy feel, and it's right on the river, got a great view. I really think you'll like it, Bella."

I'd spaced out while she described the loft, but I snapped back to attention at her last comment. "What are you talking about?" My voice was still dead.

"Bella, New York is so great… there's _sunlight_ here, honey! And everything's dry, there's hardly any rain when compared to Forks… you loved Phoenix, being in the big city?"

"Mom, I'm not going anywhere."

She sighed, exasperated. "Bella, honey, we've been through this. I understand. I do. I know what you're going through right now—"

"No," I said. "No, you don't."

"Darling, I'm trying to help you. Please. You need a break, from Forks, from yourself. From the things that remind you of him." My hole panged sharply. "You need to get out, Bella. Trust me."

I didn't answer her. I couldn't find words that I hadn't already screamed at her and Charlie the last time they tried to pull this stunt; at least this time Renee hadn't been so jaded as to buy the tickets and show up on our doorstep, cheery and ready to help me pack. She was breaking the idea to me slowly, letting me adjust to it. Letting me make my own decision.

And for the first time in several months, I started to listen.

-- -- --

The plane ride had been long and tedious. The cell phone that Charlie and Renee had bought me (to keep in touch with my Forks friends—I hadn't bothered to get any one's number. I knew I'd never call them) had been turned off the whole time, but it wasn't as if it would have offered me any peace or escape, either. There was a handsome guy in the seat next to me, at least in his early twenties. He offered me a warm smile and a hello when he first sat down, but when I meekly attempted a return smile, he looked down; he didn't try to talk to me the rest of the flight.

When we finally landed at LaGuardia, the man turned to me before standing up to get his carry-on.

"Whatever is going on in your life," he said, to my surprise, "keep your chin up. You'll get through it. You look like a tough girl."

I blinked up stupidly at him for a few minutes before I finally nodded. "Thanks," I mumbled. He grinned and reached for his bag; he cast me one last encouraging smile before he joined the line of people filtering off the plane.

Once I reached the terminal I spotted Renee fairly easily; she was clutching a posterboard sign with my name emblazoned across it, along with several suit-clad, professional-looking men. I rolled my eyes before approaching her; she squealed and wrapped her arms around me, sticking Phil with the sign.

"Hi, mom," I muttered into her hug. She squeezed me and then pulled back.

"I'm so proud of you, Bells," she said, before kissing me on the cheek and letting me go. Phil gave me a small wave, less emotional about my arrival than my mother was. I nodded back, allowing Renee to usher us out of the terminal, through the airport towards their rented car. Phil loaded my luggage—one duffel bag and a rolling suitcase—into the trunk.

Renee let the ride to the loft pass in silence, surprisingly; I watched the skylines pass with some sense of familiarity as recognizable buildings passed above me.

When we reached the loft, Renee was beaming. "You're going to love this, Bella," she said. Several times. She threw open the front door for me and stood to the side.

And to my surprise, I actually did love it. The loft was so different from my cramped little room back in Forks; there was so much space, so much room. Hardwood floors, high beamed ceilings, huge half-circle windows. The walls were bare. There was so much room for potential. For a fresh start.

"Your bedroom is through the doors on the left," Renee said behind me. Phil moved around me to drop my luggage off for me, and I blushed as he did so.

"Thanks," I murmured. He nodded and then gestured for me to enter my room. I pushed the double doors open carefully, as if afraid of what might lurk behind them.

There was already a full-sized bed there, fitted with plain white sheets and a white down comforter, and beside it a small wooden bedside table. The room was bright, due to the lack of window dressings; the windows in here were tall, rectangular ones with half circles of glass at the top, and there were two of them, each on the long wall. There was a vanity centered between them, and a dresser on the other side, next to a door that led to a decent-sized closet that I didn't have enough clothes to fill. I turned to face Renee, whose smile hadn't slipped.

"Mom, this is nice, but the furniture and everything must have been expensive, you didn't have to do that…"

She shook her head violently. "No, Bella, none of that; don't even think about that. This is _your_ room now."

I nodded at her slowly. She whispered something to Phil and they both slipped out of the room quietly. I began to unpack.

Was I really in Brooklyn? Was I living in New York City, moving on with my life? It felt so… fake. As if I were watching a fictionalized version of myself. This isn't what I would do. The real me would have stayed in Forks, would have waited for him to come back. Because he had to come back. We were a pair. We were soulmates. He had to come back at some point.

Didn't he?

So what was I doing here? I pulled a pair of jeans off the top of my suitcase and transferred them into the bottom drawer of the dresser. I shouldn't be unpacking; I should be hailing a cab and catching the next flight out to Washington. Surely I had enough cash tucked into a spare sock in the bottom of my duffel to get a plane ticket. Or maybe Renee would understand and take me back to Forks.

It was too soon to be doing something this drastic. I was a fool.

But I kept unpacking; I pulled jeans, sweaters, shirts out of the suitcase and placed them in the appropriate drawers, hung them on hangers; I lined my three pairs of shoes up inside my closet. I'd left the rain boots I'd bought at Newton's with Charlie. I wouldn't need them in New York.

I placed my very few belongings around my room, in places they might fit; my hair brush and very, very few pieces of makeup on the vanity, alongside my jewelry—all pieces passed down through family members or that I'd picked up in Phoenix at vintage shops; a framed photo of Charlie and me, from a few months ago, when I was happier, ended up on top of the dresser.

The things his family had gotten me for my birthday found a place in the top of the closet; my scrapbook, devoid of his presence; his CD; their plane tickets, useless now. The descrated car radio. I couldn't part with it back in Forks. Every time I'd tried to throw one of these items away, I'd found some excuse as to why I should keep it. Usually they were horrible excuses. Usually they made no sense at all.

The one time the items ended up in a trash bag, they'd been fished out in the dead of the night and replaced under the loose floorboard he had wittingly stowed them under in the first place, the very place I'd stumbled upon during my packing.

My belongings had wittled down to barely anything; my room still looked empty once I'd finished. I stood in the middle of the floor, staring around me. That was how Renee found me.

"Bella, honey," she said, knocking gently on the door before coming in. She looked around. "Wow. Is this everything you brought?"

I nodded. "There wasn't much I needed."

"But, honey, there wasn't anything you _wanted?_ Any good memories, any photographs or anything?"

I shook my head. I heard a small sound of disapproval—or of sadness—from her, before she turned to me.

"Well. It's getting kind of late; Phil and I figured we'd go out to eat. Our treat. Since it's your first night in NYC."

I continued to look around the room.

"It really isn't necessary, mom."

"No, but we want to. Come on. It'll be fun."

I looked at her sideways, and she smiled brightly. I sighed and she clapped her hands together happily.

Forty minutes later, we were standing on the sidewalk outside of a small café restaurant, Renee squinting up at the sign.

"I dunno… I was thinking we'd jazz it up a bit. You know, since it's Bella's first night?"

I rolled my eyes and pushed through the door. "This is fine, mom."

We found an empty table and I sat down quickly, eager not to draw any attention. I couldn't believe I was doing this. I couldn't believe that for the first time in several months, I was doing something out in public. And in New York City. Where I now lived.

I wondered when I'd wake up.

A waiter asked for our orders; Renee opted for a veggie burger; Phil, a double with bacon, and I ordered a grilled cheese. I saw Renee's disapproving look, but thankfully she didn't say anything.

The waiter returned with our drinks after several minutes. Shortly after that Phil started talking about his first day of practice, which was next week. He was nervous but excited at the same time. He was the same Phil I remembered vaguely from Phoenix, only now he was married to my mother as opposed to simply dating her.

Our food arrive after fifteen minutes of somewhat-strained conversation; finally the table fell into a comfortable silence as we all ate. My appetite, however, wasn't exactly as healthy as it had been several months ago. I finished half of the sandwich and a few fries before I couldn't eat anymore.

Renee eyed my mostly full platter and glanced up at me, that worried look in her eyes. "Honey, are you okay?"

I nodded, and took a sip of my iced tea.

"You sure?" She glanced at Phil, then back at me. "Look, Bella, Phil and I both wanted to talk to you. A-about the situation." She looked at Phil, who nodded reassuringly. "Look, honey, we want you to know that if you need to talk to someone about what happened, we're both here."

My eyes locked onto a nondescript spot on the table and didn't move. I breathed as quietly as I could, to keep from hyperventilating.

"Bella, we… we wanted to tell you that what you went through is normal. Everyone gets dumped by someone when their young, and it's devastating that first time. But you have to pick yourself up and keep moving." She reached a hand across the table and placed it on mine where it rested on my glass. "This constant state of walking through your life like a zombie is only going to hurt you, Bella," Renee said. Her words were compassionate. But they weren't the right words. They were all wrong.

I blinked at the table. "May I be excused?" I whispered.

I didn't see Renee's nod, but I felt it in her hand, a slight up and down movement. My hand slipped out from beneath hers and I stood up, my eyes still down.

I would've thought I'd learned my lesson over the years; I was clumsy enough while looking straight ahead, I didn't need the added danger of not watching where I was going.

I ran straight into a solid figure moving in the opposite direction, past our table; my legs gave and I began to tumble to the floor, but two sets of hands reached out and caught me. Renee was half-standing, clutching onto my left arm with more strength than I would have imagined. And with one hand grasping my right arm and another arm wrapped around my waist, balancing me, was a guy who couldn't have been much older than me, with short black hair and wide brown eyes. He set me on my feet and let go of me, smiling slightly.

"And I think that's the first time I've ever actually caught someone," he said with a raised eyebrow. "Usually it's the girls who do the catching…"

I stared at him with a blank look and he frowned.

"…Or my sense of humor fails epically. Sorry, um," he said, then laughed somewhat nervously. "I'm assuming that since I don't think I've ever seen you around here, you're new." I nodded once, and he held out a hand. "Dan Humphrey."

I took his hand hesitantly. "B-Bella Swan."

Dan smiled and nodded; I watched as his eyes slid from me, to my mother behind me. I turned and saw that Renee was watching us with a wide, expectant eyes.

"Um," I said, embarassed, "this is my mom, Renee, and her husband, Phil."

Renee smiled and shook Dan's hand. Phil said, "Nice to meet you."

Dan nodded to both of them. "Well, welcome to the neighborhood. Um…" He glanced behind him, to a table where a man who looked about Charlie's age and a young blonde girl who might have been a year or two younger than me sat, watching him. "I've gotta go but, um… I'll see you around?"

He looked somewhat hopeful, so I nodded once; he grinned and turned back towards his destination, the table where his company was waiting for him. I watched him go, before I heard a titter from Renee behind me.

"Oooh, Bella," she whispered, "I do believe an opportunity is presenting itself!"

I shook my head and glanced at her, before pushing away from the table and escaping to the bathroom, my original intended destination.

Once there, I approached the first sink and ran the water; the sound reminded me of rain, in a very distant way.

I leaned against counter and stared into the mirror. I didn't like what I saw; my pale skin wasn't simply pale anymore, it was borderline sickly; my hair was dull, pushed away from my face in a simple skinny black headband, and there were faint circles under my eyes. My collarbone protruded a little more than it used to, peeking through the collar of my favorite blue blouse. His favorite blue blouse. Why had I worn this thing again?

I closed my eyes, listening to the faucet. The sound started to morph, into one that wasn't comforting anymore now that I was focusing on it. It was simply a faucet. I ran my hands under the cool water and pressed them to my face.

It was going to take more effort than I'd ever begun to fathom to survive New York.

-- -- --

**Disclaimer.**

I don't own anything, actually. Baaah.

**Author's Note.**

So, thanks to those of you who reviewed, favorited, and signed up for alerts. Hope you guys enjoy!


	3. Chapter 2

**JENNY HUMPHREY**

There was an incessant buzzing somewhere in the vicinity of my left ear; groaning and groggy, my hands slid under the pillow and fumbled around for the Blackberry. Once I'd successfully located it and pulled it out of the depths of pillows and sheets, the screen welcomed me with a new blast from Gossip Girl. I groaned again.

"Great, who now?"

I quickly scanned through the text and rolled my eyes before pushing myself out of bed. My feet hit the cold hardwood and I shivered; I immediately headed for my sock drawer, pulling out a tall pair of purple wool thermals. I shrugged them onto each foot before shuffling out into the hallway. Once I reached Dan's door, I yanked it open and tossed the Blackberry at the crumpled mess on the bed. It landed with a soft thump, letting me know I hadn't caused any damage. He woke with a start and looked around wildly for the offending flying object, picking it up and then peering at me through half-shut, sleepy eyes.

"Good morning," I said, nodding towards the phone in his hands. "You're on Gossip Girl."

"Huh?"

He looked down at the phone and read the text aloud. "'Good morning, Upper East Siders… it looks like Lonely Boy has found himself a new playdate'?"

I leaned against the doorframe, pulling the sleeves of my oversized henley down over my hands. Dan kept reading.

"'D spotted sweeping the new girl off her feet down in Brooklyn; could it be that he's finally over S? Hit the site for more deets, XOXO.'" He snorted as he burrowed his way out of bed. "Looks like she's desperate. It was hardly newsworthy."

I shrugged again as he handed me my phone. "I'm sure someone out there will read deeper into it than it deserves." I frowned as I followed him into the kitchen. "So, you never really said much about this girl."

He rolled his eyes as he pulled out two cereal bowls. "Not much to say, really. Her name was Bella Swan, she was new to the area. She wasn't exactly spilling all of her deepest, darkest secrets."

"Hmm." I dug through the cereal cabinent until I found the Frosted Flakes. "I wonder where she's going to school."

Dan shrugged. "I doubt she's going to Constance; she didn't seem the type to dish out the money to go to a private school."

I stared at him. "Do we look like the type to dish out the money to go to a private school?" He shrugged; I took the milk away from him.

"So she's living in Brooklyn, you think?"

Dan shrugged again. "Didn't say, didn't ask."

I sighed, annoyed. "Of what use to me are you if you're not even going to do a good job of getting information when we most need it?"

He rolled his eyes as he dug a spoon into his cereal.

-- -- --

**Disclaimer.**

My ownership is seriously lacking, here.

**Author's Note.**

Yeah, so, this is really short. I just wanted to get som GG lovin' in here, and a little way to introduce what happens in the next update, so that Jenny doesn't seem like a creepy stalker. But now I'm giving things away. ;)

Thanks for reading, please review!!


	4. Chapter 3

**BELLA SWAN**

It was Saturday. Back home, I'd spend the morning cleaning, doing homework. I'd have made that last as long as I could, before curling up with a book before falling asleep. Busy work. That was what I did best these days.

What now?

I laid in bed for a few minutes, trying to reason with myself. I obviously wasn't dreaming yesterday, because there was too-bright sunlight flightering through too-large windows in a too-big room. The bed around me was larger than the one in Forks. I hadn't really noticed until now, but I had more room. More room, though, felt emptier. Especially without someone to be there in the mornings when I woke up, having watched over me as I slept.

It was just before eight. I could hear the sounds of a kitchen somewhere nearby, so I pushed myself out of bed and grabbed a sweatshirt before facing the world. Lofts were colder than houses. Who knew.

Renee was in the kitchen, frying bacon. The few pieces she'd finished resembled charred pieces of bark. The smell wasn't all that appetizing. Around her waist was tied a yellow canvas apron; in one hand a pair of tongs, the other, a coffe cup.

"Morning, Bella!" she cooed. I nodded in reply. Phil was perched on the couch, watching baseball. Of course.

I sat at one of the stools lined up along the breakfast bar. Yawning, I watched Renee attempt to cook. She offered me a piece of bacon. I refused.

"Alright, Bella," she said, flipping more brittle pieces of pork onto the paper towel, "we gotta talk about school."

I watched her move around the space but didn't reply.

"So, the deal is this: the closest school is a private school. It's really the most convienent. That's what we're looking at."

I frowned. "But private, that's gotta be expensive."

She grinned. "Here's the cool part. They're willing to offer you a merit-based scholarship. They understand that it's most convienent for you to go to Constance, so they're trying to make it easier for you. And you've always gotten good grades, you're an exceptional student… They think you deserve it."

"They, who are _they?_"

Renee shrugged. "The school's finacial services office contacted me about it earlier this week. Once they found out you were moving to the area, they decided to try and get you into Constance as quickly as possible so that you could get back into school and not disrupt your education."

I stared at her, shaking my head slightly. "Did they leave a phone number? I want to talk to them about it."

Renee sighed. "Now, Bella, everything's set; you're going to Constance, no ifs or ands or elses. You're not going to change their minds about it."

"I still want to talk to them. There must be someone I can talk to."

Renee rolled her eyes before pointing to the caller ID that sat beside the phone on the counter, before going back to her bacon.

I scrolled through the numbers until one came up for the Constance Billard School for Girls. I picked up the handheld and punched in the number; Renee cast me a disapproving glance. "It's Saturday, I don't think anyone will answer," she said.

The phone rang three times; I was almost ready to admit that Renee was right and hang up when someone answered, a woman.

"Hello, Constance Billard School for Girls, may I help you?"

I took a deep breath. "Hi, this is Bella Swan, I'm a new student… I had a question concerning a scholarship?"

The voice on the other end laughed quietly. "Ah, yes, Miss Swan. You're very lucky to have obtained this scholarship—"

"May I ask who the sponsor of the scholarship is?"

The woman paused; I could almost hear the sound of her frowning. "Miss Swan, is there a problem?"

I leaned against the counter. "I'm just trying to figure out who I should send the thank you card too, ma'am," I said, attempting a sweetly innocent tone that fell flat.

"Um, of course, just a second," she stuttered. I heard riffling papers before the woman spoke again. "Here it is, Isabella Swan, transfer from Forks High School… the name on the paper here is Pacific Northwest Trust. There's a phone number, if you'd like…?"

I hesitated, still wary, but eventually gave up. "No, that's fine. Thank you."

I hung up and returned the phone to its cradle. Renee cocked a brow at me.

"So? Any juicy gossip? Do you think maybe it's mofia money?" She giggled.

"It sounded legitimate," I said. "Something called the Pacifc Northwest Trust."

Renee shrugged. "Whoever it is, we owe them a lot," she said. She looked down at her failed attempts at breakfast and sighed before tossing the lot in the trash. With a meloncholy smile, she looked up at me, befor eher expression brightened like a child who's just remembered their birthday was coming up.

"You need uniforms!" she cried, clapping her hands together. "Oh, I'd almost forgotten; the woman had said you'd need uniforms. She gave me an address; said if we went in and told them you were starting at Constance they'd know just what you needed…"

She continued to babble as she drifted away to her bedroom to change. Phil remained motionless on the couch; I sighed and returned to my bedroom to get dressed.

I was going to have to get used to living with Renee again. It was so much different than living with Charlie had been.

The good thing was that, since she'd married Phil, my mother didn't seem as childish or forgetful as she once had. It was as if Phil had made her grow up a bit in my absence; I also didn't feel the need to provide for her, to look out for her as I used to in Phoenix. The time apart had been good for her. She'd changed, adapted. I was proud of her. Or as proud as I could be.

We'd reached the shop at the address Renee had clutched in her hand after a cab ride that felt like it lasted longer than it should have; my suspicions doubled when the cabby asked for the fare, an amount that shocked me. Renee handed it over without much ado and we climbed out of the cab, scarves and gloves pulled tightly on to battle the crisp wintery breeze. If I'd thought wet winters in Forks were bad, this was probably just as much so; the cold was dry, chapping lips and chafing cheeks after just a few minutes of exposure. New York in early December was bitter.

We entered the shop with a tinkling bell announcing our arrival; A woman at the front desk was with us within ten minutes, asking what we needed. Renee handled all the talking; my only role was to try on the items the woman handed me; I wound up with three navy and emerald plaid skirts that skimmed my thighs just above my knees, five white blouses, and a fitted blazer.

"And you might want some knee-highs," the woman said with a smile. She was exceptionally nice; nicer than I would have expected. Maybe that was just a guise, a ploy to make customers feel liked, make them willing to pay more. "As you might have noticed, it gets chilly out.

Renee thanked the girl and we left with two bags. Renee hailed a cab, but instead of giving the cabby the loft address, ordered him to an unfamiliar location. She cast me a sideways look.

"I don't care what they all say about diamonds," she said with a smile. "_Shoes_ are a girl's best friend."

I gaped at her; she clapped her hands together and giggled. I sighed and watched out the window as we crawled through traffic.

It didn't take long to reach our location. Renee dragged me into the store, oohing and aahing over different pairs of heels. I stopped her when she began to fawn over a pair of Jimmy Choos, the name of which I was surprised to find sounded familiar. I figured it had something to do with Alice, but then I stopped that thought altogether.

"Mom, look, stop," I said, pulling her away from the expensive heels. "I couldn't walk in those things even if we could afford the three hundred dollar price tag. I have a perfectly fine pair of flats at home—"

Renee grimaced. "I've seen your flats, Bella. Your flats have seen better days. Come on, I'm your mother; I _want_ to do this for you." She peered longingly towards the shoes. "Can you honestly tell me that it doesn't give you some sense of awe to be standing in the presence of Choos, Manolos, Laboutins…?"

_No, mom, it honestly doesn't. Because I've seen a shoe collection to rival this one combined with every shoe department in a two block radius._ I sighed.

"Mom, you just spent a ton of money on uniforms. Now let's go."

I tried to tug her away, but she persisted. "Fine, Bella, but at least let me get you a new pair of flats."

I glared at her, but I could tell there was no arguing. She was living a New York lifestyle, stubborn and spendy. I let go of her and she drifted off towards the size eights.

I half-heartedly gazed at the Jimmy Choos in front of me, my focus waning. I was doing this purely to satisfy Renee; if I had my way I'd keep wearing the same tattered flats Alice had been trying to throw away for months. She'd hated those things.

I shook my head violently; there was no need for reminiscing like that, it would only lead to sleepless nights, fresh wounds. I took a deep breath and tried to focus on the story around me; I concentrated on reading the pricetags on the shoes closest to me. Three hundred and forty nine, two hundred and fifteen, one-seventy-two…

"Well, would you imagine my luck?"

I spun at the sound of a cheery voice behind me. A pretty blonde girl who was vaguely familiar stood there, grinning at me and pushing aside her eye-length bangs. Floating behind her, as if she'd been dragged here without her consent, was a stunningly pretty girl with creamy bronze skin, dark curly hair, and crystalline blue-green eyes.

"Dan and I were just talking about you this morning and, ta da, here you are," the blonde said, smiling. I stared at her for a few moments before something she said stuck.

"Dan… Y-you were at the café last night, right? Um, Dan Humphrey, you're his g-girlfriend?"

The girl's eyes flew wide, while the girl behind her laughed. "God, no, ew. Dan's my brother." She held out a hand. "I'm Jenny Humphrey. This is Vanessa," she added, nodding towards the other girl.

I shook Jenny's hand and attempted a smile at Vanessa. "Nice to meet you," I said quietly. "Bella."

"Yeah, no, Dan was telling me about you this morning," Jenny said. I blinked at her; what had I told Dan that he could have possibly been telling Jenny? "So you just moved here, right?"

"Um, yeah," I said, nodding. "Brooklyn."

"Really? No way, Vanessa and I live in Brooklyn, too," Jenny said. Vanessa nodded with a soft smile. "Dan and I live with our dad near the river. So you must be, what, seventeen? Eighteen? Where are you going to school?"

"Um, eighteen, yeah," I said quietly. "I'm starting at this private school, um… Constance? It's an all-girls school, I guess."

Jenny brightened, her eyes wide. "What a coincidence. If you need a tour-guide or anything, let me know. I'm a junior there."

I attempted another smile and nodded. "Sure."

Jenny smiled—she was a smiley girl, I was beginning to see—before she turned to Vanessa. "Um, you were meeting Nate, right?"

Vanessa grinned and nodded. "Right."

"Right, so," Jenny said. "We'd better get going."

Vanessa held out a hand, which I awkwardly shook. "It was nice meeting you, Bella," she said. "Don't let the Constance crowd scare you. I know first-hand that they can be intimidating, but their bark is much worse than their bite. Trust me."

Jenny scoffed. "Vanessa hasn't ever had to endure eight hours of being trapped inside a building with them," she said, before laughing. "But don't worry about it, Bella. I'll see you on Monday, 'kay?"

She turned and they both gave me a small wave as they left, leaving me in the shoe department with a sudden onslaught of anxiety.

Were Constance girls really as bad as Jenny had alluded, or was she simply exaggerating?

Whatever the answer, I had a feeling my first day of school in New York would be a far cry from my first day at Forks High School.

-- -- --

**Disclaimer.**

I own this like Paris Hilton owns humility.

**Author's Note.**

Thanks to all my readers & reviewers. You guys are awesome. =)


	5. Chapter 4

**BLAIR WALDORF**

The black limousine that was poised on the curb was enticing, but I wasn't entirely sure how eager I was to step into the lion's den. I was half tempted to simply walk in the opposite direction.

Who was I kidding. All of the temptation was directing me straight into the dark, leather interior of that car, and I couldn't fool myself. I popped the door handle and slid into the seat as lithely as I could manage. I pulled the door shut behind me and turned to greet a smiling Chuck Bass, two flutes of champagne poured and waiting. He handed me one, that sly grin of his unfaltering as the car began to crawl forward.

"Where are we going?" I asked, taking the first sip. He followed my lead and glanced out the window to his left.

"The destination isn't what matters," he said. He turned back to face me. "I'm hoping we'll be preoccupied with the journey."

I glanced towards the front of the car; the privacy divider was up, separating us and whatever happened back here from the driver. The windows were silky, impenetrable black glass; our privacy was protected.

I smirked. "That was a one-time-only deal. Sorry."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Are you sure?"

I shrugged, taking another sip of my champagne. "I suppose there's one thing that would make me change my mind."

His hand found its way to my knee. "Name your price."

I fixed him with the most penetrating gaze in my arsenal, setting down my champagne. "I believe you already know."

He pursed his lips, as if seriously contemplating the ultimatum; what he wanted to do for what I wanted to hear. But I knew he wouldn't give in. What was different about this time, as opposed to all the other times?

I snatched his hand off my leg and flipped myself around so that I was straddling his lap in one swift movement. He stared up at me, a faint look of surprise registering across his expression. Then he grinned.

"Changed your mind already?"

I leaned down, my face just inches from his. "Why did you choose me?"

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Why me, over all the other girls in Manhattan?" I trailed a finger along his jaw line, toying with him. Teasing him. "Why am I your fallback girl, Chuck? Why am I the only one you pull along like this?" I reached back for my glass and took another sip, the whole time maintaining eye-contact with him. "Is it because you love me?"

He smirked up at me, and his hands landed on my hips, applying gentle pressure. "I don't know, Blair." He raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you tell me, like you always do."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You can't run away from your problems, Chuck."

"So you're one of my problems now?"

I raised an eyebrow and leaned down, my lips just barely grazing his, and closed my eyes. "You tell me."

He didn't say anything. I could feel the tension, his longing to move in and kiss me, but he didn't do it.

"Damn it, Chuck Bass," I whispered, lips still feather soft against his. "Why don't you just do it already?"

"I…"

There was a soft _ding_ from the vicinity of my handbag, and Chuck's inside pocket began to vibrate. Rolling my eyes, I reached for my bag at the same time that Chuck pulled his phone out of his pocket; we both checked the picture message at the same time.

Gossip Girl here, and it looks like Little J may be recruiting forces. She was seen befriending the new girl – the very same spotted canoodling with Lonely Boy last night. Heads up, Constance: we hear she's transferring in, so make her first day a memorable one, for me. XOXO.

The picture was of Jenny Humphrey and an unfamiliar girl with long dark hair; Jenny was smiling while the other girl looked a little awkward and out of place. Like she didn't belong in New York.

"Poor girl," I said with a grin. "She won't know what hit her. I doubt she's even heard of Gossip Girl yet."

Chuck was still admiring his phone. "Hmm."

I glared at him. "What are you thinking?"

"She's got potential."

"Potential?" I felt my eyes widen of their own accord. "Potential for _what?_"

Chuck grinned. "Don't tell me you can't see it. Put her in some Dolce & Gabanna, add some high heels… She'd give you a run for your money," he said, his smile lax and carefree.

"Ugh," I cried, pushing myself off of him. "I can't believe you. Can you stop the car?"

Chuck sighed, putting his phone away. "I'll take you home."

"No, I'd rather walk."

He stared at me. "Blair, please."

"_Chuck_," I said clearly. "Stop the car. Now."

He stared at me for a few moments, before he leaned forward and rapped on the privacy glass with his knuckles. The glass rolled down half way.

"Can you pull over here?" Chuck said, his voice smooth. "This is Miss Waldorf's stop."

The driver nodded and found an empty space. Once the car came to a stop I pushed to door open and climbed out before Chuck could say anything else. I heard the window roll down behind me, but, straightening my blouse and making sure my hair was still pinned and perfect, I walked away.

-- -- --

**Disclaimer.**

Here. Take my remote. And here's my iPod... and my Samsung Delve... oh, here are my car keys, camera, and the only hairtie I can find... Aaaand my laptop. There. Now I officially own nothing. Cheers.

**Author's Note.**

So, I just wanted to take some time to thank my reviewers, who are awesome. It's a huge thrill to see you guys taking such a liking to this story. I really wasn't anticipating much of a reply to it, it was really just a weird, quirky little idea that planted itself and decided to grow until I decided to write it. So, to the point: THANKS. You're amazing, all of ya.

About this update: Here's Chuck, being his dastardly self. And here's a little set-up of some Chuck/Blair, because I love them. So though this is a Chuck/Bella fic, there's also gonna be some Chuck/Blair. Because both are awesome. =)

Enjoy, thanks for reading, please review!


	6. Chapter 5

**BELLA SWAN**

Renee was almost enough to send me crawling back into my bed on Monday morning. She fussed and fretted over such things as proper breakfasts and whether she should take pictures; it was almost as bad as my first day of kindergarten. At least then there wasn't the ridiculous schoolgirl uniform for her to tear up about.

"I'm sorry, Bella, but it's just so adorable," she'd said, before I'd escaped the loft with what was left of my sanity. I'd need all of it I could take for school.

Constance was within walking distance from the loft, so after grabbing my backpack, a thick winter coat, my favorite knitted scarf, and my wool mittens, I began my first solo venture through the New York sidewalks. I'd worn a thick pair of black tights in preparation for the cold. They only offered minimal protection. I tugged my scarf up over my mouth and nose and pulled the hood of my coat up over my head, tucking my hair in. My eyes still watered, though, and the parts of my cheeks not protected by the scarf or the hood were slowly beginning to numb.

About seven minutes after I'd left the loft, someone yelled my name.

"Bella!"

Confused and suddenly anxious, I turned around; Jenny and Dan Humphrey were approaching me at a brisk walk, Jenny leading the way, smiling as ever. She was wearing a stylish blue peacoat with matching hat and gloves; Dan was bundled up within a thick Columbia jacket, hood up. I suddenly felt mismatched in my beige coat, purple scarf, and gray gloves.

"I thought that was you," Jenny said, teeth chattering only slightly. She must have been used to the cold. "We've been following you for a few minutes. I guess we live closer together than I'd thought!"

I smiled before I realized they couldn't see it because of my scarf; I yanked the wool down away from my face and offered a small smile. "Hi Jenny, Dan." I was pleased to hear that my voice sounded a fraction friendlier than it had yesterday, or the night I had accidentally ran into Dan.

Dan smiled and nodded in return. "Hey, Bella," he said from within his hood. "So, first day at Constance." He cocked an eyebrow at me as we began to walk again.

"Yeah," I said, taking a deep breath. Jenny laughed.

"Don't worry about it, Bella. Sure, Constance can really suck sometimes, and others it's my own personal jail cell, but as long as you understand the hierarchy, you'll be fine."

Dan chuckled. "_I_ don't understand the hierarchy yet, and we've been here a while."

Jenny smacked him playfully on the arm. "But you're a guy. St. Jude's isn't quite the same as Constance. Guys don't care like girls do."

I frowned at them. "Hierarchy?" I'd heard of social ladders in schools – jocks and cheerleaders the most popular, and so on and so forth on down to band nerds and enthusiastic chess club presidents. But Jenny and Dan made this seem much different. Almost as if this hierarchy was really a monarchy.

Jenny nodded. "Yeah, you know. At the top is Blair Waldorf, and then her minions… and Serena Van der Woodsen—"

Dan interrupted her. "Serena doesn't care about the hierarchy, Jenn."

Jenny shrugged. "Doesn't mean she's exlcuded from it."

Dan thought about it, then nodded. "You've got a point there."

Jenny looked at me. "Everyone's ranked, everyone's included. All the way to the bottom." She smiled at me, almost sadly. "Which means that you'll be included, too. I'm betting everyone's waiting to see how you handle your first day to see where you rank."

I shook my head. "I really don't want to—"

Dan smiled sympathetically. "I'm afraid you don't have a choice, Bella. Especially after Gossip Girl posted about you. Everyone knows you're coming, so they're all waiting to see what you'll do."

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "Wait, wait… _Gossip Girl?_ What is that?"

Jenny stopped walking, holding a hand out to me. I stopped and spun to face her. Dan grinned.

"Are you serious?"

"What?"

"You mean to tell me that you've been blasted by Gossip Girl before you even _knew_ who Gossip Girl was?"

I frowned. "I-I suppose?"

Jenny gaped at me, so Dan stepped forward to explain.

"Gossip Girl is basically a walking, breathing gossip magazine. She sends emails and texts containing whatever new piece of gossip she's gotten through anonymous tips, spottings, etcetera…"

Jenny chose that moment to start talking again. "Except no one knows who she is, so no one knows when someone's watching. Hardly anything escapes Gossip Girl. Here, let me see your phone."

Confused, I dug my phone out of my backpack and handed it to her. She flipped it open and began punching numbers in.

"She posted about when we met at the café the other night," Dan said, "and posted about you talking to Jenny yesterday. Someone had taken a picture and tipped her off."

Annoyed and somewhat embarrassed, I stared at Dan. "So who do I have to talk to to get taken off the site? Surely if someone doesn't want to be posted about—"

Jenny smirked. "The only way you can do that is if you send her a tip asking not to be blasted anymore. In which case, she'll murder your reputation for you. Trust me, you don't want that." She handed back my phone. "I've signed you up for her alerts. I'm also going to forward you yesterday's blast about us, so you can see what you're up against."

I took my phone. "I really don't need a reputation, so I'm fine with whatever she wants to dig up. There's nothing to find."

Dan nodded. "That's what everyone thinks. You'd be surprised."

I started to laugh, but something about Dan's and Jenny's expressions told me they were absolutely serious. Instead I pushed my phone back into the depths of my backpack and swung it over my shoulder once again before we started walking.

"So only the people who get Gossip Girl's alerts will know about me though, right?" I looked up at Jenny somewhat hopefully.

She laughed. "Which will be the entire school. Gossip Girl is _very_ popular."

I frowned before cozying back into my hood.

Dan must have sensed my frustration, because he laid a hand on my elbow. "Don't worry about it, Bella. Gossip Girl is harmless."

Jenny snorted, and I turned just in time to see Dan elbow her in the ribs. She mouthed 'ow' at him and rubbed the injury before Dan continued.

"For the most part, anyway. Just keep your head up and your nose out of other people's business and you won't have anything to worry about."

I nodded and offered him a weak smile in thanks. He returned it—his brighter and more effortless—and we continued walking. Jenny pointed at something up ahead, less than a block away.

"See those steps? That's it."

The steps, I could see, were littered with students, each bundled against the cold in their own distinctive yet fashionable way. Oh yes. I stood out. Even from back here I could see that.

We reached the front of the school within five minutes and instead of pausing on the steps—me, out of not knowing anyone, and the Humphrey's either out of habit or a weird urge to accompany me—we rushed past everyone and into the building, seeking warmth. Once inside I pulled my gloves and scarf off and quickly tucked them into my bag; I would just have to endure the coat. Jenny and Dan started walking down the hallway—which was, again, littered with students—and I instinctually followed them.

Dan bid us goodbye after just a few steps. "Good luck, Bella," he said, before departing down a separate hallway. Most of the boys seemed to be taking that route as well. Jenny and I kept walking.

You know that moment in that nightmare where you're walking and everyone stops talking just a second before you pass? They stare at you as if you aren't even a human being, some strange entity trespassing into their sense of normalcy? And then, a second after you've passed them, you hear their whispers begin to follow you, attacking your eardrums as if you've suddenly gone Clark Kent and everything is amplified?

I'd never actually experienced that outside of my own head. Until now. The only difference between this and the dreams was that each and every student was wearing the same uniform, just with their own accessories—simple gold necklaces or vibrant headbands.

I cowered into my coat slightly, welcoming its over-sized protection. Jenny turned.

"Do you know where your locker is?"

I blinked at her and then nodded shakily. We kept walking, but the stares didn't stop. With fumbling hands I reached into my backpack and pulled out a slightly rumpled piece of paper with all of my student information on it. Locker number, locker combo, class schedule, room assignments…

I handed it to Jenny and she spotted it quickly. "That's just down this hall, here…"

We turned right down another hallway and Jenny quickly located the right locker. Only, it didn't look like a locker; it had a mahogany front, resembling a cabinet more so than a locker. She stepped aside and allowed me to spin the combination. I unlocked it and pulled it open; the interior was just as unfamiliar.

I shoved my backpack into the space and quickly shrugged off my coat, despite wishing I could wear it around all day and hide within it. I tossed it in on top of the bag and turned to Jenny.

"Thank you," I said. She smiled and shook her head.

"What did I tell you? If you need any help here at Constance, I'm your girl."

I grinned and began pulling out notebooks and pens from by bag. Jenny glanced down at her watch and she sighed.

"I gotta go to my own locker, but make sure you let me know if you need anything. I'll see you for lunch," she said with a grin, before walking away, leaving me with my thoughts and silence. I took a deep breath in an attempt to brace myself for the day ahead. It didn't work.

With my class schedule tucked inside the cover of one of my new notebooks, I shut the locker and went off in search of my first class of the day: Advanced English.

The entire journey had included whispers and pointing from my classmates, who felt more like jury members than peers. A few had cell phones out, which didn't really surprise me. I was trusting Jenny that Constance students relied heavily on this form of communication, both amongst themselves and this elusive Gossip Girl.

I found the classroomI was searching for within a few minutes and slipped inside; thankfully, there were fewer students in here than in the hallways. There was a small cluster of girls in the far corner towards the front, all of them gathered around one desk. And sitting in that desk was one admittedly pretty girl, with long shiny dark hair and well-chosen accessories. Her uniform wasn't the same blouse, skirt, and blazer as mine; instead she was wearing a vintage-looking lace top with a high neck, a dark skirt, and opaque tights in a deep purple, and matching expensive-looking heels that Alice would have been proud of. The girls around here were all wearing the same types of outfits; collared shirts, skirts, tights, heels, all in designer brands, I was sure. At the sound of the heavy door shutting behind me, they all looked up, and the girl in the center of them all watched me surreptitiously. Almost as if she already had a reason to hate me.

Maybe the fact that I was noticeably not one of them—rich, privileged—was reason enough for her.

I made for a desk in the back, hoping to avoid attracting attention. This theory of mine, which has worked rather well in other classroom situations, failed in this particular one.

The girl who'd been watching me so closely cleared her throat as every single girl in the room turned in my direction. "Excuse me," she said. Her voice wasn't quite as dainty or presumptuous as I'd expected.

I froze mid-step, and slowly turned to look at her. "Y-yes?"

She smiled, but it wasn't warm or welcoming, like Jenny's or Dan's. "Mrs. Herring prefers students to sit towards the front," she said, as if it were a commonly known rule and punishable by law if I disobeyed.

Her cohorts all watched me, as if expecting me to turn back around and assume a desk near them. That was incentive enough for me.

"Of course," I said, with a small smile, before taking the seat one row forward from the one I'd been intending on in the very back. I neatly stacked my books on top of my desk before looking up and offering them another smile. "Thanks for the tip."

The girl's expression turned cold, and she smirked once in my direction before turning towards the front of the room again, her companions all tittering quietly.

As depressed and out of place as I felt at that moment, I smiled inwardly, pleased with myself. And though I was sure I'd just landed a target on my own back with my little stunt, something I most certainly didn't need, it was rather satisfying to break the rules this once.

The classroom began to fill up with other girls, and after five or so minutes, a regal-looking woman with a neat bun coiled at the base of her neck swept into the room. She looked to be about 45, her hair still dark but with slightly noticeable graying. She looked very dignified.

As soon as she reached her desk, she opened her briefcase and pulled out a piece of paper. Glancing at it quickly, she looked up at the class over the edge of her glasses and addressed us. I had a sharp feeling in my stomach that I knew what was coming next.

"Class, we have a new addition to the roster. Help me in welcoming Miss Isabella Swan, who has just moved here from a small town in Washington."

For some reason I found myself internally thanking her for not saying the name of the town. I had a feeling hearing it aloud would hurt, either from homesickness or because I would always and forever connect that place with the memory of the elusive family that had left me behind there.

Every eye in the room was trained on me now, and I found myself blushing in spite of myself. Most people stared, while a few nodded in welcome or smiled slightly in my direction. The group at the front kept their eyes trained on the professor.

After a few moments of awkwardness on my part, the class returned to normal with everyone turning their attention back to the front and leaving me alone for the most part. The class passed fairly quickly, and I found that school here at Constance, even though it was much more expensive and pretentious than my old school had been, wasn't much different than any other. Students still learned, teachers still taught.

The morning passed with few incidents (each teacher introduced me to the class, each time calling me Isabella, though a lot of the same students shared each class). The girl from English shared several Advanced classes with me, including Biology and Calculus, but never spoke to me or even glanced in my direction.

By the time lunch rolled around, I was feeling somewhat used to the whispering. That didn't mean I appreciated it any more than anyone else would have.

I headed back to my locker to drop off my books to find Jenny waiting for me. Her eyes were wide as I approached.

"Okay, Constance has had several new students over the years, but you take the cake."

I frowned at her as I opened my locker. "What are you talking about?"

"Haven't you checked your phone at all this morning?" When I shook my head, she squawked at me and then gestured somewhat wildly toward my locker, insinuating for me to find my phone. I dug it out of my backpack and and flipped it open, to find one new text message. From the expression Jenny was wearing, I could guess who it was from.

Is the new girl really a Swan, or just an ugly duckling? Word is she's already found herself a an enemy. Careful, Isabella; our Queen B doesn't take kindly to her royal subjects misbehaving. XOXO.

I shut the phone with a shrug and a roll of my eyes. "Get a life," I muttered, before turning back to Jenny, who was still gaping at me. "What?"

She blinked a few times before we started to walk. "Look, Bella. I was here three months before I even became a blip on Gossip Girl's radar. She barely even notices anyone outside of Blair, Serena, Chuck, or Nate… Well, I mean, Dan gets a lot of attention since he dated Serena, but whatever… My point is this: You've only been at Constance _one day_ and she's already posted three blasts about you."

I frowned. "And this is a good thing because…?"

She shrugged. "It could be good or bad. I'm going to say bad because she's already starting to paint you as an outcast… I mean, your first encounter was with Dan, who isn't exactly everyone's favorite person, mainly because of the fact that we live in Brooklyn, but whatever… And now this whole thing about you and Blair." She took a deep breath. "By the way, what happened with you two?"

"I'm assuming Blair is the pretentious one with the plum Louboutin's from English."

"Pretentious sounds like Blair… and you know Louboutin?"

I winced. "Long story." I didn't feel like telling her that Alice's extreme knowledge of high fashion had rubbed off on me unwittingly. "She suggested I sit at the front of the class and I didn't. Didn't seem like that big of a deal, really."

Jenny stopped and turned to look at me. "Okay, here's a piece of advice that I could have really benefited from when I transferred. Blair Waldorf's word is law around here. Trust me."

The look in her eyes told me she was deadly serious, so I nodded. "Okay, I'll keep that in mind."

"Good," Jenny said, and then we continued walking. As she led me to the main courtyard, I wondered why I was such a big deal to Gossip Girl. Surely I was boring compared to everyone else. Jenny was certainly more interesting than I was. And from the way she spoke, dressed, and walked, she wanted the attention—to some extent, at least. We walked past students on cell phones, chatting, texting, reading. As we passed, I couldn't help but notice that more and more people were looking up, whispering, pointing at me.

The phone in my palm felt like an enemy.

-- -- --

**Disclaimer.  
**Resistance is futile. Ownership is nonexistent.

**Author's Note.**  
I have apparently had this chapter finished for quite a while. I think I finished it over Thanksgiving Break and then because of my crappy internet access, I forgot about it. plzdon'tkillme.


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